It's the Thought that Counts
by FandomDancer
Summary: Murdock helps Face write a Christmas card for Sosa.


**Disclaimer: I don't own The A-Team**

 **It's the Thought That Counts**

"What's wrong?"

Murdock's voice was direct, to the point, and filled with deja vu as he neared the table where Face sat. The dulled sounds of the TV floated around the corners of the kitchen into the dining room as Hannibal and B.A. settled themselves on the couch post-dinner. Murdock didn't miss a beat, moving his slim hand to the light switch on the wall and bathing Face in dim orange flow. Face, not expecting the interruption but not at all surprised, (it was Murdock after all), looked up at his friend, not hiding the frustration behind his blue eyes and slighty scruffy chin. His response, however, offered the option to drop the conversation. Not that Murdock would. "Nothing. Just...thinking past this."

Murdock's lips curled in a small smile. Of course, he felt the deja vu too. He lowered his body into the seat nearest Face and looked on the table. A moment later, his face creased in confusion and he pointed at the impossible little object. "What about that is difficult? That ain't three cups with a ball and nobody's life is on the line. Technically."

Face gave him a look. "Have you ever done anything like this before, Murdock? There is definitely a life on the line here."

"Well if Bossman catches you trying to do that, maybe." Murdock shifted and glanced towards the entrance before lowering his voice. "You probably shouldn't be doing that though. It can be tracked."

"I'm not putting our return address on it!" Face shot back. "It's just...I love her. And I want her to know it. It's just a Christmas card."

"So write "I love you", sign your name, and put it in the envelope." Murdock shrugged. "I could do that if you're too afraid to."

Face snorted. "I'm not afraid. And I don't think she'd appreciate a card saying "I love you" from you. No offense."

"I was talking about forging your signature," Murdock ignored the sarcasm, looking at the card. His eyebrows narrowed. "Face," he began hesitantly but seriously, "maybe this isn't a good idea. I know you want to tell her you love her but that card can be tracked through the mail system..."

"I've got it worked out, Murdock!" Face's voice went up a little, and he quickly closed his mouth and his eyes, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry. Just...it's just a Christmas card."

"I know," Murdock said quietly. "You've said that twice."

Face gave Murdock another glance before picking up the pen and staring down at the white space. It looked harmless and inviting and downright impossible, sitting there. The front of the card had a picture of glittery snowfall - kind of ridiculous for a guy to pick, but it had been a very beautiful picture. And he'd always thought Charissa was just as beautiful as nature. He'd at first been hoping that the picture would speak for itself, but now he knew he had to write something. Even if it was just his name.

"When I was in high school, there was this girl named Ashley Doniger. She was pretty, Face. And I wanted to tell her that, but most people don't prefer using a helicopter over a bus to get to school, you know? So, I started leaving her messages. In her locker. Or on her desk in classes we had together. I did it for almost two months before she came in early and caught me."

Murdock stopped, but Face was still wondering what this had to do with his card. He looked over to see Murdock looking at him with an expectant gaze. The only words he could think of were: "So?"

Murdock looked a little crestfallen - clearly Face hadn't asked the right question. But he continued. "She told me that what I did was really nice but she wasn't interested in me."

After a moment, Face blinked, still not getting it. Murdock, picking up on this, let out an exasperated sigh. "Face, it doesn't matter what you write. You're sending her a Christmas card while on the run. A sappy 'Happy Holidays from Hallmark' card. She'll appreciate it. Believe me. Women are psychic. _Especially_ when that woman is El Diablo."

Face's mouth quirked in a smile at the nickname and he looked back down at the card. After a moment, he sighed, picked up the pen again, and wrote. When he was finished, he closed the card and slipped it into the envelope, sealing it neatly. Murdock watched in silent anticipation, and it was only when Face tucked the envelope into his shirt that the man finally burst out: "So? What did you say?"

Face grinned. "Does it matter?"


End file.
